Saturday, January 5, 2013

You've
said it, I've said it, "haha look at her binder its sooo OCD", or
"Stop being so OCD about it", at the time it was just a witty banter
part of my daily vernacular, nobodyactually has
OCD, so its okay to say it right? That's what you say, until you do have
it. Now this doesn't just apply to OCD, it applies to people that have
disabilities, or are ADD, Shy (or socially awkward), it applies to being poor
or rich, or anything that can be made into a derogatory remark.

It never bothered me to call someone out
to be "ADD" in class or "OCD" about their closet, I'll
admit it, I've even been one to say "that's so retarded",
"you look like a bag lady", or "At least I'm not a Rich B**ch"
but what I didn't realize was real people really do have ADD, and OCD,
there really are bag lady's that would kill to have 1/2 of what you have, rich
people really do have feelings, and people with mental disabilities may be
slower, but they are the purest form of human.

This never bothered me until I had to sit at a table of people gossiping about
how someone who's on medication can never get married, or people that go to
psychologists are crazy. Usually I would push it out of my mind, but the way
these people were talking in whisper tones with disgusted faces on,
as if people with these roadblocks are disgusting and shouldn't even be talked
about. There I was sitting at a table of people who I thought were my friends,
who know nothing about what I'm dealing with talking about me as though I'm an
embarrassment, as though I'm not worth a marriage, or a family, let alone a
life.

These people laughed with me, talked with me, and treated me as though I was
the optimal woman in society, but if I were to tell them that I had OCD, meet
with a psychologist, and am on medication, would that have changed anything
that I've accomplished, or the kind of woman I'm? No, it would just change how
the world sees me, and that's the issue, were so busy looking at the label,
that we never actually see what’s inside. I have come to learn that when you're
judged by people you don't miss out on anything, but they miss out on something
incredible.

As Shakespeare wrote “ A rose by any
other name would smell as sweet!” J

So,
Ive started my Zoloft, but unlike Xanax, or Valium, Zoloft doesn't give you
instant gratification, its not like you pop the pill, and you're OCD free an
hour later, Zoloft can up to 6 weeks to have even built up in your system
enough to start to make any difference. Which means for the first month and a
half, there was nothing. This was frustrating, because here I was ready to be
"all better" but thats not how it works, even after the 6 weeks, its
still you working and fixing and pushing to get past any urges.

And before I forget, you also have to
titrate up on Zoloft, which means you go from 25 mg, to 50 mg, to 75 mg, to 100
mg, to 125 mg, to 150 mg, to 175 mg, to 200 mg which fills up your 6 week
waiting, because you're so busy trying to figure out how much to take and if
its actually doing anything to notice that after all those weeks you've FINALLY
made it to 200mg ( the "Norm" dose for OCD). Now let me also remind
you that over these weekly titrates you get to deal with the fun side
effects which thankfully I didn't have until I reached 200mg. This found my
laying in my bed at 2am crying from nausea-- but hey once I threw up I felt so
much better :p Now this blog isn't meant to scare anyone out of taking
medication from being scared of side effects, because honestly one night of
nausea has nothing on giving me a new lease on life!

One thing I was reminded over and over was that the medication does not fix everything,
I have to work on myself. When someone pushed into me at the mall, I had to
control myself from freaking out, if my fork touched the table-- too bad, I had
to use it anyway, when I met someone professionally, that handshake was a
necessity. These may seem like mere everyday things, and before they would have
been to me as well, but at that point they were HUGE obstacles.

I've now been on medication for 8 months,
I’m up at 225 mg, and feeling a lot like my old self, but BETTER, I always
thought I was above medication, but we learn something new every day! I can now
do many things that I couldn’t fathom being able to do before, even though I
may not be able to do it 100% OCD free... YET :)

If you've even gone as far as opening my blog, I can
only guess that the reason behind doing so is due to the fact that you suffer
from, or know someone that has or had OCD, known properly among psychologists
and psychiatrists alike as Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Now,
I didn't always have OCD, I was a normal kid, living a normal
life, who could not wait to get out of high school and start my real life
in college. Like many others I had my family, my love of fashion, tanning
at the pool, listening to Taylor Swift on full blast singing at the top of my
lungs, anything that had to do with being in the kitchen, and laying on my bed
cracking jokes with my best friends.

I was normal, but 8 months ago I was diagnosed with
episodic OCD, so what does that make me now? In my mind, it made me nothing, it
made me unworthy of living, because my OCD took away my life, I would lay on
the floor and cry because I couldn't put on a skirt, or couldn't hug my father
after coming home from work-- what had become of me? Before I continue
rambling, Let me give you a little back story as to how my OCD started, and Im
going to be brutally honest, Im changing nothing but names, for the hope that
even one person out there can hear my story and get the courage to pick
themselves up and realize they are worth it, and yes YOU ARE NORMAL :)

Ok here goes my story, there I was getting on a plane to my
college experience that I dreamed about, away from my family,
friends, and everything I had known until now to live in a dorm room of 5
others, I really did not know, including my best friend at the time -- it was a
shock--. My first week there I had witnessed two roommates *Anne & *Macy
them pretending to have sex, grab each other walk around stark
naked, and act like I’ve never seen, so I chose to stay away from these girls
and spend as little time in the dorms as possible.

The second or third week there (it’s a little blurry
to me) I was in my towel getting ready to shower standing at my closet and out
of know where I find myself in a triangle choke hold by *Anne, and *Macy trying
to pull my towel off. Even as I'm writing this my heart is racing, my brain was
slammed and I went into panic mode, i managed to get both girls off of my and
run out of the room. I thought that was it, it wouldn't happen again, disaster
averted-- but the next week the same thing happened, but this time it was only
*Anne, I threw her off of me, put on my scary voice and said "don't you
ever touch me again". I did not tell anyone what happened, I didn't want
to tell my parents, because it would be an embarrassment for them to take me
home after only a few weeks, and I didn't want to feel weak. I went on for the
next few months on pure adrenaline, *Anne got kicked out for other reasons, and
*Macy moved out of the room, I thought I would be able to push it all out of my
head and have the best rest of the year possible.

By time January rolled around I knew something was wrong with myself, I
couldn't touch someone else's food for fear I was dirty, I couldn't have others
touch my food for fear they were dirty, I wouldn't share clothing, I couldn't
deal with anyone sitting on my bed, or touching my stuff-- everything was
dirty, and i couldn't get clean as much as I tried.

I went on until March with everyone thinking I was a
total snob for being awkward and not being able to share anything, that's when
I started washing my hands with scalding hot water from an urn, and putting on
500 pairs of underwear after the shower until I did it without touching my foot.
I knew there was something seriously wrong, but I couldn't face it, I couldn't
tell anyone- that would entail me admitting I’m not perfect.

Spring break came around, I got off the plane my hands raw and red, and I
didn't give me mother a hug. That's when she noticed something was wrong, I
covered up my hands by saying it was just the cold water because we didn't have
a heater in the dorms, and not giving her a hug was brushed off, but I could
tell she still knew something. After being home for a month of disappearing
whenever my mother needed me to help in the kitchen, showering every night, and
pretending to space out when someone extended their hand to shake, it was time
to go back to school.

Day of my flight, I sat in my room, bags still packed from when i got home,
because I couldn't bear to touch them, I wasn't going. I remember sitting on
the edge of my bed thinking I would look like a cop out, and what would my
friends say, or the dean of my school who made a point of using students in his
speeches? I needed to stay but I had this urge to go, I just sat and cried
until an hour before my flight, which was when my mom came in, took one look at
me and said "Forget it, you're not going, there's something wrong
here". She then went on to call a psychologist and instead of going to the
airport, I went straight to her, where I was diagnosed with Episodic OCD, but I
still had not told anyone of my assault. In my psychologists and my mothers
head, this was something that was brought on my anxiety and I would be going
back to school in a few weeks.

That's what I did 3 times a week for two weeks straight, as I was pushed to go
back... and then it came out, but not in a conversational way, I was in my
tri-weekly session, when the situation of my going back to school came up. At
this point there was no stopping me, I couldn't hear anything other than myself
yelling across the couch "Would you back back to a place that you were
jumped by two girls trying to pull your towel off?!" and then I threw my
face in my hands and cried while my mother & psychologist sat wide eyed,
and jaw dropped.

After my mother found out, she called the school- their answer to my
assault?
It was my fault for not saying anything, My dad needs to pay the full tuition
anyways, and I should not tell anyone what happened. It was like watching a TV show,
I never understood why the rape/bully/assault/abuse character that felt like it
was her fault, until that moment, but here I was made to believe that it was my
fault. It took me a long time to realize that I didn’t ask for any of this, I was
assaulted and it was not my fault.

The next month was a downward spiral, I was adamant against
medication, but EPT and CBT were not working alone, I was stuck and watched
myself get lost. I finally told my best friend, *Lana but she didn't get it,
she couldn't relate-- she just want me to get over it. After our conversation
she ended up dropping out of my life, she didn't speak to me for about 5
months. The day after I told *Lana, I told my best “guyfriend” *Mark-- bad move
on my part, is if being shut out by *Lana wasn't enough, losing *Mark hurt even
more, because I always knew my friendship with *Lana was circumstantial
but *Mark and I were always there for each other no matter what
happened, but 8 months and counting Ive only seen him 3 times, which before my
OCD, would have been 3 times a day. That was it for me, I wasn't going to tell
anyone else, because obviously they didn't care so my spiral deepened.

Then It happened, I snapped. All I remember was laying in the hall way
SCREAMING that I didn't want to live, my parents threatening to Baker Act me,
and just limply laying and crying- I couldn't fight on my own for any longer, I
needed more help, I needed to help myself, and I needed to try medication. So
there I was, in the psychiatrists’ office, while he sat with a skull, and
showed me where the SSRIs worked, and why they were being affected by my
constant anxiety for the last 8 months. So on the weekend of June 23rd, I
started taking Seratonin, and let me tell you, its been a loooong road to where
Ive gotten, and I have a long way to go, but this whole situation has taught me
so much about myself, and as hard as its been, I may not be able to say Im glad
its happened to me, but Im definitely seeing the rainbow after the hurricane :)
SO now that you've read my long back story, I can only hope you come back to
read my about my daily life while dealing with OCD.

About Me

Hi Blogging world!

Im Lulu, your typical gal... who just happens to be dealing with an episodic bout of OCD, read my blog, leave me comments, questions about anything you may want to know about OCD, or how I've gotten through certain predicaments. Most of all I hope my blog brings a smile to your face and adds a skip to your step, because if I can get through this-- so can you :)